


Language Games

by fengirl88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Kissbingo, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which London is full of idiots pretending to be pirates, Lestrade is annoyed, John is amused, and Sherlock feels left out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language Games

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the square "other: to shut them up" on my kissbingo card.

“I blame Johnny Depp,” Lestrade grumbled, screwing up his sandwich wrapper and lobbing it accurately at the nearest rubbish bin. “ _And_ sodding Walt Disney.”

John was still humming the same irritatingly catchy tune he'd been singing at breakfast, but broke off to say “Sorry – what?”

“Don't know what's got _into_ them all,” Lestrade said. “Even the bloody Yard's full of idiots saying _Avast there ye lubbers_ and _Heave ho me hearties_ in piss-awful Mummerset accents.”

“Well, it is September the 19th,” John said. Like this was supposed to mean something.

“International Talk Like A Pirate Day,” John explained, apparently surprised Lestrade hadn't twigged it already.

The stupid bastards were _everywhere_ today. Lestrade glared at yet another passing bunch of twerps wearing gold hoop earrings, bandannas on their heads, and sporting five o'clock shadow at lunchtime in St James's Park, for fuck's sake. He'd seen two parrots in the last ten minutes, not to mention a badly faked wooden leg.

“Arseholes,” Lestrade said, fuming. “I tell you, if one more pillock invites me to _shiver their timbers_...”

“Probably just angling for sex,” John said. “Maybe you should tell them you're not available for shivering other blokes' timbers any more.”

“ _You_ ,” Lestrade said, softening slightly and giving him an affectionate shove. “Been getting above yourself ever since I started shagging you.”

John grinned unrepentantly.

“Anyway, I _like_ Johnny Depp,” he said.

“Huh,” Lestrade said. “No accounting for tastes.”

“I like you _more_ ,” John said encouragingly, leaning against Lestrade and earning a glare from the pinstriped suit on the next bench.

“Why anybody wants to see a film based on a bloody theme park ride...” Lestrade said.

“Have you seen it?”

Lestrade shook his head, glowering.

“Oh well,” John said. “There's a gap in your education that definitely needs plugging. Even _Sherlock's_ seen that one. I'll bring it round tonight.”

The last thing Lestrade felt like doing after a day like today was watching Pirates of the Sodding Caribbean with blasted Johnny Depp. On the other hand, an evening on the sofa with John Watson wasn't a completely unappealing prospect, especially if the sofa didn't have Sherlock on it as well.

Pity he'd never liked the taste of rum. But there were always other possibilities. Whisky, for example.

“OK,” he said grudgingly. “See you about seven?”

 

By eight o'clock, Lestrade was starting to think he'd been stood up. Even John's key in the lock, a sound Lestrade hadn't quite got used to yet and that usually gave him a little thrill, didn't lift his mood.

“Sorry I'm so late,” John said. “Got into an argument with Sherlock just as I was leaving.”

Bloody Sherlock. Might have known it'd be something to do with him.

“What was it this time?”

John looked uncomfortable, guilty almost. _Here it comes_ , Lestrade thought. _Fuck_. How Sherlock had lived with John all these months and not noticed he was gorgeous he'd never know. Nothing like a bit of jealousy to get the eyes open, though. And once Sherlock _had_ woken up of course he'd be making a play for John, which would leave Lestrade precisely nowhere. Probably just trying to work out how to break it to him.

“He wanted to join us,” John said.

Oh. Lestrade hadn't been expecting a threesome.

Wasn't going to get one either, by the looks of it. John must have turned him down. Surprising.

“Bored, was he?” Lestrade asked, a bit nervously.

“Not exactly,” John said, putting the DVD on and fiddling about with the remote, “though with him it's never far off. Um – he said he fancied a pirate evening. I said no, so he's feeling a bit left out.”

“He _what_?”

“Apparently he ran into a particularly fetching group of pirates this afternoon in Marylebone High Street but they wouldn't let him join their crew.”

“The world's gone mad,” Lestrade groaned, tugging at his hair.

“Yup,” John said, collapsing onto the sofa next to him. “I could do that for you, if you like,” he added, stroking the back of Lestrade's neck and pushing his fingers up through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

Lestrade knew he still had stern and uncompromising things to say about all this pirate nonsense. He just couldn't quite remember what they were at the moment.

“I always fancied being a pirate,” John said meditatively. “Rum, sodomy and the lash – or was that the British Navy?”

“I'll tell you this much,” Lestrade said, “I am _not_ joining in the chorus of Fifteen Men On A Dead Man's Chest, so don't even think about it...”

As the theme tune started, Lestrade realized belatedly what John had been humming earlier. Must have planned this all along, the cheeky git. Probably _hadn't_ planned on getting a string of plaintive and recriminatory texts from Sherlock though, much less texts uncharacteristically couched in pirate-speak. Lestrade had got so annoyed that he'd threatened to throw John's phone out of the window if he didn't turn the fucking thing off, after which John had started doing distracting and shameless things with the hand not already stroking Lestrade's neck, and quite a lot of the film's plot (such as it was) got lost somewhere along the line.

 

“There's a reason why that flag's called the Jolly Roger, you know,” John said some time later, giggling.

Lestrade groaned. “Your jokes really don't get any better, do they?”

“No,” John said happily. “But you know what you need to do if you want me to stop.”

“Are you going to go on about blasted pirates all night if I don't?”

“Arrr, matey,” John said, “shiver me t–”

Lestrade grabbed him and kissed him hard, went on kissing him until John felt heavy in his arms, breathless and collapsing against him. No more pirate talk, and no more bloody _Sherlock_ talk, not even when Lestrade released him briefly so they could both gasp for air.

“ _Ohh_ ,” John said, shuddering with pleasure as Lestrade's fingers gripped his cock firmly and began to move, “oh _yes_ , that's–”

“Hold your tongue, you miserable son of a sea-cook, or I'll clap you in irons,” Lestrade growled.

John gave a little moan and Lestrade kissed him again, ruthless and demanding as befitted a pirate captain disciplining an insubordinate member of his crew. He tried not to get too distracted by wondering where he'd left the handcuffs. After all, if the way John was thrusting up into Lestrade's fist and making incoherent noises was anything to go by, there really wasn't going to be time to use them.


End file.
